Page 76 of Far From Sherwood Forest
I love it when he’s rough, so I don’t mind it.
I want it.
Ineedit.
Even the graze of his beard against my face is harsh, burning me along with every other part of him that’s touching me. When his lips leave mine, moving down over my jaw to my throat, his beard scratches my skin, sending a hundred shockwaves of pleasure rushing through me. I feel the brush of his tongue, the scrape of his teeth, and I tilt my head to give him better access.
“You’re going to come for me, Robin, and I want to hear my name while you do,” he growls so I feel the vibrations against my throat. “Scream it. Moan it. I don’t give a fuck. I just want myname on your lips while I take you apart.”
He licks up the column of my throat, and I whimper.
“Henry.”
“Louder.”
I feel his hot breath in the crook of my neck and shoulder just before his teeth sink into my flesh. My body shudders, and his name leaves my lips again as my orgasm hits in a blinding flash of pleasure.
It’s a scream.
Or a moan.
Maybe both.
He bites down harder, and my climax seems to hit a second peak, lasting so long I fear I may black out.
When it starts to pass, I come to with my chest heaving, my hands still held above my head, and Henry licking over the spot he bit me, soothing the sting. I don’t know if I ever want it to go away.
He lets go of my softening cock and lifts his hand between us, his fingers covered with ropes of cum. As he brings his fingers to my mouth, the look in his eyes is a silent command, one I obediently follow. Parting my lips, I stick out my tongue, and he gives me a taste of the evidence of my own release. He licks up the cum on the other side of his hand, then our tongues meet in another deep kiss that leaves me even more breathless.
When he releases my wrists and pulls back, my gaze dips down to the bulge that’s still in his jeans.
“You won’t let me?” I ask, my voice a little wrecked.
“I’m okay,” he says with a small grin. “I just wanted to make you feel good.”
Well, I wasn’t expectingthat. The man who went from shooting me twice in one night is now more worried about my pleasure than his own?
“You did.”
“Good.”
His eyes flick between mine, then down to my lips as he swallows. And then he does exactly what I expect him to do. He turns away. I wish I could say that it doesn’t hurt this time, that each time gets easier. But it doesn’t.
He walks over into the kitchen and picks up a dish towel, so maybe he’s just cleaning the rest of the cum off his hand.
But what then?
I won’t give him the chance to tell me this won’t happen again. Not this time.
After tucking my dick back into my underwear and zipping up my jeans, I turn and open the door. I rush outside, down the steps, and toward my truck.
“Robin!”
I don’t stop, though my feet stumble a little because I can hardly wrap my head around the fact that Henry’s coming after me. But having hope has only hurt me, and I don’t know how much more of that I can take.
I pull the handle of the door to my truck, but before I can open it more than a few inches, Henry’s hand comes down on the window and shuts it again. His chest presses against my back as he crowds me against the side of the cab.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
